Champions of the Daedra
by lthom950
Summary: The Daedra are known to manipulate mortals to do their will, but what were to happen when one Daedra's affairs interfere with another's? This story revolves around the mythology of the Elder Scrolls Series and follows the journeys of many of the Daedras' different champions.


A figure moved through the shadows, the darkness appearing to be stuck to her like a web. The young girl moved quietly, her swift movements refusing to make any noise. Her mind was set on her mission, and she had more than ten different plans to work with to achieve her goal.

The guards remained stationed at each entrance. They were instructed to refuse entrance to anyone, unless vitally necessary, into to Dragonsreach. She would have to find another way in, most likely through a much higher entrance. The dark elf stealthily made her way around to the side of the Jarl's mansion, and began climbing, using the stones of the wall to hold to. She climbed to the first roof and looked for her opening.

There was no accessible entrance from where she stood. She had to climb higher. Slowly, she worked her way up the wall. The higher she climbed the more her arms seemed to shake. By the time she got to the top she was ready to collapse. She hauled her way up over the side and landed on solid ground. Having just climbed a wall nearly thirty feet high, she took a minute to catch her breath.

She'd heard stories of what happened here. This balcony was where the Dragonborn and the Jarl captured that dragon. Her mother told her stories of the Dragonborn, who seemed to be her childhood hero. The elf never quite understood what her mother saw in him.

The town guard used to talk about rumors of the Dragonborn being a member of the Dark Brotherhood, and how he'd been the murderer of some poor orphanage owner in Riften. Any man capable of such horror didn't seem like a good guy in her opinion. Then again, she was a thief. Who was she to judge?

When she was no longer gasping for air, she ran for the door ahead of her, praying to Nocturnal there was no one on the other side. She slipped through the doors as quietly as she had climbed the walls, and ran through what appeared to be the Jarl's war quarter. She noticed a map dotted with red flags. They were most likely where Stormcloak scouts had discovered enemy camps. By the number of flags pinned to the table, she could tell the Gray-Manes had been busy.

The elf scanned the room for any sign of her goal. When she found nothing of interest she almost left the room to search elsewhere. As she gingerly stepped on the first step going downstairs, the elf noticed a soft howl coming from the table. It sounded like an icy wind, which having lived in Winterhold for the majority of her life she was well acquainted with the sound.

She walked back to the table, listening intently for the sound. The sound persisted, and as she examined the table, she saw a thin vapor seeping out between the planks and falling towards the floor. She knew the enchanted sword was there.

Kneeling on the floor, she gently brushed her hand across the bottom of the table. Her hand hit a knob, which she hastily twisted. When the knob would no longer turn, she bent over and looked under the table. Hanging from the table was her price; the magical sword, Chillrend.

The sword was absolutely magnificent. Its blade looked like a jagged piece of pure ice. Where the blade met the hilt, a gold and silver sun sat there, radiating blue magicka. The crimson leather of the handle seemed to be the color of blood. The elf sat and admired the blade as she held it in her hands. This was the blade of the Dragonborn. This was the weapon used to kill Alduin. This was the weapon she would wield to stop the battles already preparing to present themselves to her.

She took a large square of linen from inside her pack, and wrapped the blade in it. She hoped this would protect her from the weapon's cold magic as she made her escape.

After securing the weapon safely in the bag, the thief turned to walk out to the balcony in order to make her escape. The moment the elf's hand grabbed the handle, a familiar voice called out to her. "Stop right there, Acelle. I can't let you leave with that sword."

Acelle turned to face the voice, only to have her sister standing in its place. Her sister stood there, a two-handed axe held ready. Her voice had been calm, but her arms shook. Acelle knew the position she'd just put her sister in was to be hard, but she had no choice. This blade was the only thing capable of freeing Acelle from the destiny fate had so harshly put on her shoulders. She couldn't just walk away.

"I'm sorry, Yoki. I need it. You may not understand now, but I need it. Remember the stories mother used to tell us? The ones of the dragons and the daedra? The Dragonborn?" Acelle waited to give her sister a chance to respond. Yoki nodded, signaling to her sister that she remembered. "There was a point to those stories, Yoki. She wanted to teach us how strange the world is that we live in. She wanted us to know that even ordinary people can be thrown into strange and dangerous situations. I need this because-"

"No!" Yoki yelled interrupting her sister. "Do not use mother to get you out of this. You have just robbed one of the most powerful men in the entire country of Skyrim. You can't just say a nice speech and get away with this!"

The elf turned towards the dining hall below. "Guards! I need your assistance! There is a thief!"

Acelle stared daggers down her sister. "You know ever since you got a job 'cleaning' the Jarl's bedchamber's you've turned in a complete bore." Acelle gave out a soft chuckle and then continued. "Now if you don't mind I have important places to be."

The elfish thief ran out the door and towards the edge of the balcony. She stood at the edge and was prepared to start climbing down when something sharp nailed her through the stomach. The elf looked down to see an arrow sprouting from her naval. She grabbed at her gut, and her hand immediately felt warm and wet. Her head began to feel light and she looked back to see three guards walking towards her. Yoki stayed at the entrance to the balcony refusing to look her way.

The guard in front held the bow, and was currently busy loading a second arrow. Acelle tried to run and avoid his shot but moving made her feel dizzy. She moved along the edge of the balcony and lost her footing. She tumbled over the side and lost consciousness moments before she hit the ground.

Guards were sent out in the morning to receive her body and the sword. They never found either. Soon after Acelle's death, two men, dressed in black armor exactly like the one the recently deceased elf was wearing, came and retrieved the body. The thieves buried it where all Nightingales were buried; the Twilight Sepulcher.

As for the sword, one of the thieves; an elderly Nord by the name of Brandr, took it and hid it within the Ragged Flagon's Cistern, hoping Nocturnal would lead someone to it and be able to use it to defend against the oncoming war from Oblivion.


End file.
